


Well Suited

by Violetwylde



Series: Martin RPF [4]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/M, Suit Porn, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 02:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetwylde/pseuds/Violetwylde
Summary: Inspired by the prompt: I want to ruin one of Martin's suits by sitting naked on him, rubbing my dripping wet pussy over his hard clothed cock until he goes mad, pushes me off his lap, takes his cock out and fucks me hard!!How could I resist??





	Well Suited

Childish to say, but he started it. Strutting into the room in that suit, navy blue and sleek cut—broad at the shoulders and trim at the waist. The silk blend shimmers just a bit, looks invitingly soft to the touch. You can’t be held responsible for what you do next.

You toss your dress onto the rumpled bed—the linens still scented with with the sweet musk of morning sex—and walk over to him, all thoughts of dinner erased from your mind. He puts his hands on his waist, as if he’s got a mind to complain that you’re already running late, but then his eyes skate down your body, lingering on the delicate black lace of your bra and panties, and his expression shifts to appreciation.

You press into him, run your hands up the smooth lapels of his jacket, tug him close. The fine fabric is cool against your skin, makes you shiver. And, God, he smells delicious—cool moss and cedar, lavender and sage. Like a spring morning in Provence. He should take you there sometime, fuck you senseless in a sleepy hillside village.

His hands settle on your hips, fingers stroking over lace, and he hums—a silky rumble of desire. “We’re gonna miss our reservation,” he says, eyes trained on your lips.

They curl up, soft and easy. “Don’t care.”

Leaning in, you tease your mouth against his—brush your lips over his, slip your tongue along the parted seam. His breath breaks with just the hint of a moan and you take that as your cue to pull away. He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, not quite a growl, and you smile back—coy.

Hands still wrapped around his lapels, you guide him backwards, to the plush chaise that sits against the far wall. He offers no resistance as you push him down and climb into his lap. There’s no teasing this time, when you lean down and capture his lips. He tastes like mint and desire, and you slip your tongue into his mouth to sample more, deeper.

His hands trace up the valley of your spine, fingers sink into you hair—clench and tug. It sends a ripple though you, makes you arch and rock into him. He groans into your mouth, slips his hands down to your ass, and presses you against him again. You roll your hips, a leisurely circle that grinds you just right against the thickening bulge of his cock. Syrupy pleasure pulses through you, slow and sweet, and you do it again. And again. Until his prick is a hard ridge you can ride. You rock faster, grind down harder, until the movement breaks your mouths apart. He pants, “Yeah,” into your throat, lips on your throbbing pulse.

You’re slick and swollen, the friction of lace and the soft slide of fabric making you ache. And he must know, because he stills your hips and pushes you back, just a bit. He opens his fly and reaches into his trousers, pulls out his cock. He’s so hard, thick and red—fat head shiny with precome. Fucking perfect.

You lift yourself up and tug your panties to the side, too desperate to bother with taking them off. He rubs the head of his cock against your wet pussy and you shudder, flames of anticipation licking up your spine. He teases at your clit, along your dripping lips, and dips in. You groan, ecstatic with the feeling of fullness, and sink down.

Hands on his shoulders, smoothing over the fine fabric, you start to ride him. Slow at first, savoring the thick slide as he carves into you again and again. Your thighs burn as the rhythm picks up. Up and down and up and down—faster. Behind your ribs, your heart beats a rapid tattoo of want.

You settle into his lap, lean back with your hands on his knees, and rock your hips. It stirs his cock deep inside you, forces the fat head and flexing shaft to press against g-spot. You keen, high and reedy, overwhelmed by the flare of pleasure.

Pressure builds against your bladder and you clamp down against the sudden urge to pee. You’ve already made a mess of his suit pants—rubbed your wet cunt along the bulge behind the placket—you can’t embarrass yourself further by pissing yourself in the throes of passion. But the tension and the threat add a delicious edge to the pleasure.

His hands are on your hips now, guiding your movement as he starts to fuck up into you. Hard. And harder still. A heavy, aching bliss begins to pulse out from that place inside you that he hits over and over again. Tendrils slip up your spine and curl around your stomach. Your breath flutters in your throat.

You’re undone.

He grunts, short staccato curses of pleasure. He’s close. He tells you, “Gonna come in you, gonna come so deep inside you.”

You cry out, ecstatic. “Yes. Yes!” The aching wave of pleasure lifts you higher and higher, until your teetering on the precipice. You arch back, taut and breathless. His hips churn under you, pushing his cock against you with relentless precision. He tries to soothe you, with groans of ‘that’s it’ and ‘let go’ and ‘come for me’. And you want to sob because you’re so close. So. Fucking. Close.

Then one of his hands slips from your hip, tucks under lace, and suddenly white hot sparks are lighting up inside you. He’s strafing his thumb over your swollen clit. Light, tight circles. And, Christ! You double over, grabbing him tight by the shoulders as you tip over into a rushing, pulsing climax. You bury your face in his neck as you cry out.

He thrusts up into and you can feel your body clench around the thick slide of his cock. Over and over. It draws your orgasm out, from that first burst of pleasure into a veil of ecstasy that drapes over you. You’re still shuddering, still catching your breath, when he pumps into hard and growls, “Fuck!” You can feel the heavy contractions of his cock as he fills you up—'til you’re brimming with his come.

Neither of you move. You hold each other through the aftermath, panting. Then he turns his mouth to yours and you kiss him, slow and deep. You take turns tasting satisfaction on each other’s tongues, until his cock softens and slips from your body. A drizzle of semen follows, you can feel the warm trail of it drip from your body. One more stain on his pristine suit.

He must be reading your mind, because he pulls back with crooked smile and says, “Worth it.”


End file.
